


I Said I Was Sorry

by PriestGuts, Stuffy (AlexKingOfTheDamned)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Dubious Consent, Gore, M/M, Stuffing, Tentacle Sex, Vomiting, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:51:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PriestGuts/pseuds/PriestGuts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/Stuffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tentaspy accidentally loses control and eats Sniper. </p><p>Upon respawn, Sniper decides to return the favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tentaspy's Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> this is pretty grisly and gorey, so beware~

The first time they met, Sniper drowned.

 

The little Spy had been curious. Nobody ever came down into his sewers. The only people he ever saw had been dead for quite some time, and were very pale and bloated from the water. But the tall one dressed all in red, he was alive and moving and wading through his water.

 

Territorially, he was furious. But objectively, he was fascinated. He pulled the man under the water to look at him. He had no gills or tentacles or claws to speak of. His fangs were abysmally small. He thrashed around and bubbles came from his mouth, but then they stopped and when Spy let him go, he floated to the surface of the water.

 

The next time they met, Spy apologized. Since their last encounter, he learned about lungs.

 

Sniper never did much like Spies. He didn’t even like the Spies on his own team let alone the enemy Spies. But this one was some kind of charming. Maybe it came from his childhood, when he used to raise baby crocodiles. He never did find the right sort of things cute. He’d go down into the sewers sometimes, clicking and whistling for him, and he’d bring him tidbits to eat.

 

The Spy was always thankful for the morsels. His diet in the sewers consisted of whatever he could find, and none of it was very good. Sniper would bring him things like chocolate and beef and cherries, things he’d never had before. And he’d let Spy’s curiosity about human anatomy go wild, up until a point. He had his dignity.

 

Until he didn’t.

 

He struggled on principle, of course. But the first time those tentacles slipped into the nooks of his body, he melted. Supported completely on a soft bed of flesh, surrounding him, overwhelming him, sliding into him and around him, he was gone.

 

The second and third times he put up a similar struggle, before succumbing to the mind-wiping pleasure of ten limbs all working to stimulate him. Beyond that, any refusal was simply a formality, something to help him sleep at night after being tentacle-banged by a genetically modified octopus man. As long as he could put up the pretense of it being unwilling for a few short sentences beforehand, the rest could come freely.

 

When there were others around, they were enemies. The tentacled Spy, nicknamed (unoriginally) TentaSpy by his own team, was known by all. He was rarely spotted, but everyone made up a tale or two at some point about an encounter with him. He lives in the sewers beneath Teufort, and occasionally he can be seen in the stretch of water that connect the two grates between the enemy bases.

 

In those instances, they are enemies. The Spy waggles his tentacles menacingly and beckons Sniper playfully into the water with thickly accented promises to eat him gently, and the Sniper responds in turn with his waving kukri and threats that he’ll turn the octopus into a wall decoration.

 

But when they’re alone, they’re gentle to one another. Apart from the times that Spy playfully tries to drown the man. He never lets it go too far. Sniper knows it’s part of the kicks that Spy gets out of their bizarre, clandestine arrangement, since he has no real way of knowing if he gets any pleasure from their more feral pursuits.

 

It’s frightening when he’s being logged with water, but the Spy will always pull him back to the surface and suck the water out of his lungs with deep, choking kisses.

 

At least, that’s how it always was.

For some reason, this time, he’s not letting him go.

 

Sniper feels a flicker of panic the moment that he seemed to realize that Spy wasn’t going to let go. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. In an instant he starts struggling for real, a few bubbles blowing out his nose as he tries to get out of the strong grip of Spy's tentacle. Does he really think that Sniper would just let himself be drowned like some kind of rat? There was no way in hell he'd go down without kicking and screaming the whole way there.

 

Moving as best he could, he grabs ahold of the kukri strapped to his belt, but he’s already feeling himself go light head. The breath in his lungs hurts to keep there and soon enough he just couldn’t hold it any longer. In a sudden burst of bubbles, Sniper lets out a last desperate growl for the Spy to let him go, his attempts at freedom growing weaker by the second until he stopped moving completely.

 

Spy drags him up to the surface like a toy with a giggle of glee and squeezes the water out of him until he’s choking and gasping for air again. He lets him gulp air for a few seconds before he drags him under again.

 

For him, this is like foreplay. His rubbery skin tingles with excitement as the Sniper wriggles and thrashes in his grip. His fear is intoxicating, his struggles are blissful, rubbing across his suckers like the touch of a lover.

 

He repeats the action, waiting for Sniper to take that fateful last-ditch instinctive gulp for air that fills his lungs with oxygen, before dragging him up to the surface and pumping the water back out of him until he’s shaking and gagging, only to make the plummet back into the water seconds later.

 

Now this is just getting ridiculous and it’s seriously starting to piss the Sniper off. He’s normally pretty calm and patient but this is one of those times when he’s pushed too far.

 

Holding the air in his lungs the best he can, he forces himself to stop struggling. He can tell that Spy is having far too much fun half drowning him so many times in a row. Sniper takes a risk and let loose his breath as he stopped struggling again. He could have held his breath longer, but he’s done paying now.

 

When he’s lifted from the water this time, he forces himself into action, quickly drawing his kukri and sending it deep into the rubbery flesh of one tentacle, slicing clean through it. He hit the water with a splash, barely catching the concrete of the ledge, retching water up from his lungs and stomach, along with a bit of his lunch.

 

The spy is writhing, screeching in pain as his brackish blood darkens the water. The noises that come out of him aren’t human in any regard, high-pitched animalistic screeches. The water burns his wounds and he tries to scramble onto the shore, seizing the Sniper again to use as a lever.

 

But the disoriented bushman is just dragged back into the bloody water by the force of the frightened Spy. An elbow comes into contact with the Spy’s ribs and he wheezes a snarl underwater. He bites into the man’s shoulder as they splutter to the surface, to try and discourage further attacks. His row of spiny teeth pierces his flesh effortlessly, and when his blood fills his mouth, the Spy’s pupils blow so wide his eyes go black.

 

Sniper cries out, trying to struggle and get away despite the damage done to his flesh. God are those teeth serrated? "Piss, that really smarts. Now enough ya overgrown Spook. Lemme go!" he growls, taking ahold of his kukri once more. "This ain’t funny anymore!"

 

And then he catches the look on Spys face and he feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. He's seen that look before; on sharks during a feeding frenzy.

 

Fresh blood. Spy’s never tasted it before. He swallows in shock, it slides through his insides hot and salty and warms him in a way mutant fish and dead bodies never have. His nerves feel alive, his senses heightened. His higher brain functions start to shut down, and he bites down harder until his teeth cleave a chunk of muscle from Sniper’s shoulder and he swallows it down.

 

It burns his insides. It’s hot, searing hot, boiling the spy’s blood and flipping the final switch in his brain. Instinct takes over, ravenous animal instinct. He’s hungry – hungrier than he’s ever been – and Sniper is _delicious_.

 

Sniper grits his teeth to muffle the yell of pain that he lets loose when flesh is reamed from his shoulder. He feels blood flood from his wound, dripping into the water and onto the concrete below them. Oh god this is one of the most painful experiences of his life. Only thing he could remember that was worse was the time his lower half got blown off by the enemy Demo. That had certainly been interesting.

 

"You fucker! What the hell do ya think you're doin'?" he growls, trying to get a good grip on the tentacle that's around his waist, but it's slippery, rubbery, and it's difficult to get any sort of purchase. It doesn't help that he only has use of one arm currently.

 

Spy doesn’t hear him. He doesn’t hear anything but a constant roar right behind his eyes. His vision has gone red as the blood in his belly and his instinct tells him only one thing. He needs more.

 

His teeth come down again on the Sniper’s bicep and shred a larger chunk of flesh from his bone. He doesn’t bother chewing, his throat widening to make way for the muscle as he swallows it down. It joins the flesh in his stomach and his senses burn even brighter.

 

He bites him again, and again, tearing flesh from his side and his belly, the water is turning almost black with the amount of blood pouring out of the bushman. He half-drags him onto the concrete beside the water to get a better grip as he swallows down the muscle of his thigh. His stomach is full, but he needs _more_.

 

At this point, Sniper can no longer struggle. He’s barely hanging on. His last thoughts are that this was not the end of this. He'll get back at Spy for this, he has no doubt in his mind.

 

Spy doesn’t notice that Sniper’s struggles stop. He just made it through the muscle and fatty tissue of Sniper’s belly, into the soft, meaty insides. He’s in heaven. He swallows down intestines like spaghetti, gulps down his stomach, tears into his lungs. His belly feels tight and hot, but there’s still so much left and it’s already started to go cold, he has to eat it while it’s still warm.

 

He swallows down chunks of Sniper’s arms and legs, his stomach is starting to cramp it’s so full but he doesn’t want to stop yet. He’s frenzied and desperate, gulping down the soft tissue of Sniper’s inner thighs, he almost clears out his entire body cavity before tearing into the flesh of his sides and back.

 

He’s so full at this point, the suit he’s always worn on his upper body has gone unbearably tight. He pauses just long enough to open the buttons of his coat and vest before hunching back over the body of the sniper and swallowing down the meat of his neck and shoulders. His belly hangs, full and heavy, all ten limbs working to bring meat to his mouth.

 

He’s not sure how many pounds of the Sniper he’s eaten before he can’t take another bite. He falls limp to his back with a loud, wet burp, shaking all over. Sniper’s body drops into the water and floats away while the spy paws bloody hands at his full belly.

 

Prying shirt buttons open, he rubs his palms and claws over the distended globe of his belly. His breaths come in short little gasps, he’s filled with pleasure unparalleled. He turns his head dizzily and sees Sniper’s body floating away, and guilt fills him for a moment.

 

They were friends, sort of. Sniper’s not going to be happy with him.

 

In respawn, Sniper holds his head and growls, trying to will away the headache and nausea that always come from being pieced back together. How dare Spy eat him alive like that? He’s up the instant he felt well enough to move. He ignores any and all calls of his name. He is a man on a mission and he intends to see it through.


	2. Sniper's Revenge

Revenge is the hot topic in Sniper’s mind for the next few days to come. That Spook always talked about eating him, but he never thought he’d actually go _through_ with it, and it can’t go unpunished. If he lets this slide, the Spy might get the bright idea to do it again. He has to teach him a lesson, immediately.

 

Problem being that for the next few days, the Spy makes himself scarce. Sniper tries to whistle for him in the sewers, but he’s actively hiding from the bushman. Not a matter, he needs to set up, anyway.

 

He finds a room in the sewers with a big flat floor and some old, obsolete machinery. The perfect place to put his plan into action. He sets out a table and all the things he’ll need for his perfectly executed revenge.

 

The hard part is actually _finding_ the damn octopus.

 

The Spy spends his time deep underwater. It took him a couple days to digest the enormous meal, leaving him to deal with his shame for days. When Sniper comes down into the sewers looking for him, he hides. He knows the man is mad at him, he doesn’t want to face him. Ever again, if he can help it.

 

Finally, one night when everyone is asleep, Sniper decides to set his plan into action. It's late and there's not a single person about on base. He figured that there'd be nobody to follow him down to the sewers. He's heard people asking about the table down there, but nobody has seemed too interested.

 

Bringing down those fresh morsels that he'd gotten just for this occasion, the Sniper whistles softly and even tosses one fish right into the water, hoping the stinking of it will draw in the Spy. It's a while before he hears the water splash a bit against the concrete. This had better be well worth his effort.

 

He whistles a little louder and takes a seat to seem more casual. The only thing he's worried about was the Spy already being hungry for more of him and less for the fish. That might throw things for a loop.

 

Slowly, a gloved hand surfaces and snatches the fish, pulling it under the water with a flash. The Spy regards the seated Sniper while he nibbles the fresh fish. He expected a lot of things, his imagination has been running wild for days, but he didn’t expect this. The bushman isn’t attacking, or yelling, he doesn’t even seem angry.

 

Soundlessly, the Spy ascends until only his head from the eyes up is visible in the dark water. He blinks his sideways eyelids at the human and chirrups questioningly under the water, sending up a crown of bubbles around his head from his gills.

 

"Figured ya might like something a little fresher to eat than what ya normally get," Sniper practically purrs. He seems to be in a pretty great mood by all appearances. He even tosses the Spy another fish. They're fresh enough to still smell like salt from the ocean. "Probably don't get that very often down here, eh?"

 

He seems to be friendly and calm, sure, but inside the Sniper's head a storm is brewing. He can't wait for the Spy to just really go for the bait. "No hard feelings, mate." No hard feelings indeed.

 

Spy grabs for the second fish and slithers a little closer, keeping a careful distance between them. “You’re not mad?” he asks, his mouth coming above the surface of the water as he strips the fish with his sharp teeth. “I do apologize, I don’t know what came over me. It was an accident.”

 

"Nah. I'm not mad at ya. Weren't in your right state of mind is all. Like I said… no hard feelings." With that, Sniper holds up the bucket full of fish and ice to keep them fresh, beckoning Spy closer. He's sitting, leaned up against some of the machinery, hunched over a bit with legs spread enough to keep him comfortable. He looks comfortable if nothing else; like nothing is wrong with the world.

 

Spy releases the bones of the second fish into the water and slides a little closer. He hesitates at the edge of the shore before grabbing onto rusted railings with a few tentacles and dragging himself ashore towards the bucket. It’s the best fish he’s ever tasted, that’s for sure. Better even, he’d wager, than Sniper tasted, even if Sniper had been warm.

 

He licks his lips and curls up right by the edge of the water, his tentacles rippling in a state of unease. This doesn’t seem right, by all accounts Sniper should be furious with him. He should be afraid of him, and not want to come anywhere near him. This seems too good to be true.

 

Sniper has been his only friend. If he’s prepared to let the water under the bridge, then he should take that gratefully. He wriggles a little closer, he’s never been too graceful on land.

 

The very instant that the Spy is close enough, Sniper lets him have the bucket and slowly stands to stretch as he watches him eat. "Ya know, mate… real shame things had to end up this way," he says, still looking as calm and placid as still water before a net falls onto the Spy from where he'd rigged it to drop.

 

As quick as the net was dropped, it was hoisted back up with the Spy thrashing inside. "You really shouldn't have actually eaten me. Teasing is one thing, but when ya actually go and do something like that, you'd better believe there'll be consequences. Oh, calm down ya bloody squid. I ain't gonna kill ya. Just gonna teach ya a lesson is all." He ties off the rope and pulls on a pair of thick gloves before moving over to the teeth end of the Spy.   "Wouldn't be any fun in just killing ya."

 

“I said I was sorry!” the spy snarls wildly, trying to jam his tentacles through the net to untie it, but the ropes are tied too closely together for them to get through very far. Fear is rippling through him, he never should have trusted the Sniper’s easygoing attitude. He was so desperate to keep his only friend that he ignored every warning flag and every instinct that told him to run, and now he’s stuck in a net like a common trout with no idea of what’s going to happen to him.

 

He hisses and thrashes his tentacles at the Sniper whenever he gets too close, trying to scare him off. If he can just get back to the water, he never has to see this stupid human again.

 

"Yeah well, sorry don't cut it in this situation, Spook. You ate me. Didn't just bite me. You _ate_ me. So now I'm looking to get an eye for an eye. Or really, in this case, flesh for flesh," he growls, taking hold of one of the tentacles that wiggles through the rope net in an attempt to get at him, slicing it clean off without even batting an eyelash. "You eat me and I'm going to eat you."

 

Spy shrieks and wriggles harder, his blackish blood dripping in puddles on the concrete under him. Tears of pain prick his eyes; he hasn’t even finished regrowing the _first_ tentacle Sniper cut off.

 

While making sure that the Spy was watching him he set the still-squirming tentacle in the ice bucket to cool it quicker as he set up the table. He'd brought all the utensils he thought he'd need and even few condiments in a cooler beneath the table. He wasn't joking around.

 

“Let me go, you’ve made your point,” Spy says in a shaking voice, hiccupping both with fear and over-exertion, clutching the ropes of the net. He stares beseechingly at the Sniper. “Let me go and you never ‘ave to see me again. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see ‘ide nor tail of me for as long as you live.”

 

"Let you go? Nah. I don't think so, mate. We're only getting started after all," the Sniper comments, flicking thick blood from his kukri to clean it. Didn't want the blade to rust after all. He whistles as he cuts part of the tentacle into neat slices and sets them aside, cubing another part and separating the suckers from the underside of the appendage to set those in their own pile. "You're going to just hang tight and watch as I eat every bit of this."

 

Spy moans miserably and shifts in the net so his back is turned to the other man. Watching his own wriggling tentacle cleaved apart like a steak is nauseating. He refuses to play along, defiantly curling his remaining six tentacles around himself in a protective bubble.

 

"And if you don't watch…" Sniper says, glaring from behind tinted glasses, "I'll cut the rest off and leave you up there to dry out." With that, Sniper picks up a pair of chopsticks. That's what you're supposed to use to eat sushi after all.

 

Spy has no choice but to turn back around. Sniper waits until he's sure the Spy is watching before he lifts the first piece to his mouth. He looks visually relieved when he discovers that he tastes like octopus and not anything… more human or gamey. It's actually not half bad; a little chewy and definitely fishy, but he's definitely eaten worse.

 

Spy watches nauseously as his own flesh, sandwiched beside rice and wrapped in seaweed, disappears into the Sniper’s mouth. He moans dizzily and looks down at the concrete, but the sight of his own blood pooling does nothing for his queasiness.

 

“Please,” he coughs and gags as Sniper chews and swallows his flesh. “ _Please_ let me go. This is accomplishing nothing I already feel ‘orrible about what ‘appened.”

 

The Sniper ignores his pleas. He'd skipped lunch today so he was pretty hungry. He easily finishes the first plate of tentacle sushi and moves on to the next as if this was just an ordinary meal. Occasionally he'd dip flesh in soy or tartar sauce just to mix it up, but mostly he left it plain. It was well enough plain to not need too much of any overpowering sauce.

 

"No. You're staying there until I finish every last bite. This is nothing compared to what you did to me. If you keep complaining… I could always cut off another one."

 

Spy tries to keep from sobbing, scrubbing his face with his hands. He’s shaking, the pain and bloodloss have started to make him feel dizzy and cold. Damn his instincts, and damn the bushman for being so delicious. It hadn’t been his fault, if the Sniper hadn’t stabbed him he wouldn’t have been so frightened and he wouldn’t have bitten him in retribution. It’s all the Sniper’s fault anyway!

 

He pulls all his tentacles into the net anyway, so that not a single tip is dangling. It’s already going to be hard enough to swim with two missing.

 

Halfway through the second plate, Sniper is starting to feel full, but he was bound and determined to finish the whole thing. However, as he sat there eating, ideas started brewing in his head. Oh how disgusted the Spy looked right now. Standing slowly, the Sniper moved over, with the other half of the plate, to where the Spy was curled up. "How about… we make a deal, huh?" he asked before eating another piece right in front of him. "You eat what's left on this plate and I let you down."

 

Spy gags just thinking about it. He shakes his head furiously and coils his tentacles around his body to put a physical barrier between him and the Sniper. “You are disgusting!” he spits viciously. The more he watches the Sniper, the angrier he feels. They were supposed to be friends, and he makes one honest mistake and now this! He said he was sorry, what more could the Sniper possibly want? His offer to disappear never to be seen again went unheeded, now this is just getting personal, and downright hateful.

 

If Sniper hates him now, then so be it. He’ll make sure the bushman understands that he’s not the sort of person you want to make an enemy out of. He squirts ink violently at the man, drenching him in thick black ooze, cursing him loudly in French.

 

The sound that escapes Sniper's lungs is closer to a shriek than a yell much to his dismay. Oh…that's it. That's the last straw. "Don't wanna take the easy way out? Fine then. We'll do it the hard way," he growls, setting the plate aside, grabbing a piece before approaching the net again. He circles the net, looking for his chance before reaching in and grabbing the spy roughly by the nose to pull him close enough to the ropes to shove the piece of his own flesh into his mouth.

 

Smirking, he clapped his hand over the Spy's mouth while still holding his nose so that he'd have to swallow or risk choking to death. "You're going to eat this… one way or another, Spook."

 

Spy writhes like a spider. He makes desperate gagging sounds and tries to claw at the Sniper, but his own wriggling tentacles get in the way. The nausea he felt earlier is nothing compared to the taste and texture of his own flesh on his tongue. He tries to gasp for breath, his gills flaring out desperately, but on land they’re useless. He chokes once, twice, before instinct takes over and he swallows.

 

He gasps for breath, gagging when Sniper releases him with a laugh. His stomach is doing flips, he starts to drool through the net queasily, shaking violently. He’s seconds away from sobbing like a child, trying desperately to keep from throwing up.

 

But it’s a losing battle. Poorly-chewed chunks of fish, along with his own bite of tentacle, come spilling out of him in a pinkish mess. The net is shaking fiercely, the cavernous room echoing with the deep-bellied retching sounds of the Spy’s misery. Sobbing shamefully, he clutches the ropes weakly with all eight remaining appendages, trembling and wriggling and spitting the last horrible traces of the taste from his mouth.

 

“’Aven’t you ‘umiliated me enough!?” Spy yells, hiccupping and drooling wretchedly.

 

"Absolutely not," Sniper says coldly, voice deep and eyes almost hollow. He has a penchant for being horribly cruel when he wants to be and even sometimes when he doesn’t. Stepping back over to the table, he sits down and resumes eating. He wasn't at all put off by the Spy's vomiting and drooling. If anything he seemed even more determined than before and it's starting to show.

 

He's been full for a while now, but there's still a couple plates left to go and he isn't giving up so easily. As he continues, breathing started to become a more arduous task, but Sniper is nothing if not stubborn. Swallowing is a task as well, each one sending small cramps across his stomach. The Aussie ignores them the best that he can as chews the rubbery flesh.

 

“You’re full, you should stop,” Spy begs once he notices that the man’s stomach has started to distend. “You made your point some time ago, you don’t need to continue to push yourself.”

 

He doesn’t mean for his tone to sound like begging. But the crying and sniffling and continued choking don’t help.

 

Instead of listening to him, Sniper turns those narrow eyes to look right into his, staring straight through him as he brought another slice of flesh to his mouth, sucking the blood off his fingers deliberately. "Aw worried about me are ya?" he croons .He feels the buttons on his shirt starting to pull as he continues to eat. This is pretty nice actually. He rarely ate until he was full, much less far past that point. This is spurring him to continue eating as much as revenge was at this point. Only one plate left. He put the back of his hand to his mouth to cover a soft belch.

 

Spy groans nauseously again when Sniper burps and rubs his belly indulgently. His tentacles have stopped moving at this point. The combination of blood loss and violent vomiting has left him completely exhausted. He sags in the net, tentacles hanging limply through the ropes as he watches without really seeing.

 

He’s too tired to be angry. He’ll take the time to be furious later.

 

Sniper finishes off without a hitch really. Sighing, he leans back in his chair a little run his hand over his stomach, letting out a sound of surprise when one of the buttons decides to ollie the fuck out of there and goes flying off into the water with a tiny plunk sound. He can't help but snort lightly, undoing the rest of them slowly before he has to resew all of the buttons onto his favorite shirt. His stomach is completely round, skin tight and body pleasantly warm and heavy. He didn't really want to stand up, but he had to. He'd taught the Spy his lesson and now he'd let him go.

 

Spy hits the floor with a wet slapping sound. He doesn’t even move for the first few seconds, lying in a pool of his own blood, ink and vomit. He’s in a tired sort of daze, and blinks blearily at the water’s edge. He barely has the strength to drag himself towards it.

 

Sniper actually has to help him along, nudging him with his foot until he falls into the water with a splash. He sinks like a stone, dropping farther into the dark water until he’s completely out of view.

 

Well shit.

 

Sniper sure hopes that he didn't push too far and accidentally kill the Spy. He liked him, he really did, he was just severely pissed off about being eaten like some sort of octopus biscuit. He hadn't appreciated it. But he didn't want to kill him. They had a strange relationship to say the least. Always bickering and fighting, but the sex sure was great. He sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, slowly sitting back down in his chair. He feels too heavy to move right too much right now, but he feels good; the best that he's felt in a while.

 

He rubs his belly and licks the taste of octopus off his lips, staring across the table in front of him with a strange mix of satisfaction and guilt.

 

Spy hits the bottom of the sewer and just lays there for a while. Days, probably. His strength slowly returns, he eats whatever drifts close enough but he doesn’t have the strength for a while to actually go hunting.

 

As his strength comes back to him, so does his anger. Just who does Sniper think he is?! This _human_ is beneath him, he should _fear_ the Spy, not regard him like an animal! He’s stronger than humans, faster and smarter, too! He’s practically a _God_ compared to humans, and this bushman thinks he has the right to trap him and _eat_ him like wild game?

 

Sniper probably thinks they’re even, now. He probably thinks that it’s over.

 

He doesn’t know how wrong he is.


	3. Tentaspy's Revenge

Revenge is a practice that takes time. Finesse. Intelligence. Elegance.

 

More grace than trussing up your victim in a net like product at a fish market.

 

He couldn’t take the same approach. Trying to lure Sniper with false security won’t work. The man will be expecting that, he’ll know it’s a trap. Just like Spy should have known. If he hadn’t been so desperate for friendship –

 

It doesn’t matter.

 

He’ll have to sneak-attack. Jump the Sniper when he’s not looking. He’s always on the alert, waiting for him, but unsurprisingly, he doesn’t come back down to the sewers. It’s not shocking, considering their last encounter.

 

Although, part of him hoped that Sniper would come down. That he’d try to make amends, now that he thinks they’re even. He might even have accepted his apology if he did. But he seems to think now that he’s gotten his revenge, he can forget all about the smelly little Spy who lives in the sewers.

 

Well, he’ll show him.

 

Getting into the rafters of the bridge between the bases of Teufort was a challenge. He climbed the scaffolding and fell back into the water twice. He’s a creature built for grace in the water, not on land. He has to climb in the middle of the night, too, so he won’t be spotted, and his night vision has never been very good. After more than an hour of trying, right around dawn, he finally makes it up into the rafters.

 

He spends the next several hours perfecting the disguise texture of wood, just to blend in better. It’s not even necessary, really, nobody who crosses the bridge ever looks up. He learns quickly that Sniper doesn’t ever really cross the bridge. It shouldn’t surprise him, given that his occupation is to hang back and wait. But he’s patient. Spy is nothing else if not patient.

 

His tentacles get sore, he grows sleepy, but he stays alert. His time will come.

 

And it does, almost near sunset. The Administrator announced that there was only five minutes left in the mission, and the Spy was furious with himself, afraid that he’d spent a whole day holding himself up in wooden rafters, growing stiff and sore and uncomfortable.

 

But then he sees the familiar hat of that man walk under him. He doesn’t hesitate for a moment. He drops like a rock right on top of his prey and wraps him up in his tentacles, and with a mighty lurch, they both plummet over the side of the bridge and into the water.

 

Sniper flails as he's dragged into the water, coughing when he gets his head back up above to get the bit he'd inhaled out of his lungs and nose. He's cursing and kicking and screaming as he struggles in the mass of tentacles. Nobody sees him be dragged into the sewers, down deeper and deeper into the tunnels. Piss.

 

"Let me go, ya overgrown squid. I'm done playing with ya. I've got a job to do and I ain't got time to deal with your nonsense," he growls, clawing and grabbing at the slippery tentacles in his attempts to escape.

 

“Oh no, Scope,” Spy’s voice is sweet like honey as he slithers through the sewers, dragging Sniper helplessly along with him. “I ‘ave _plans_ for you.”

 

He keeps Sniper’s head above water. As much as he enjoys drowning the man, he wants him alive and lucid for this. He brings him underwater to a secret place he knows of, where years of erosion has worked a sizeable cave under the pipes. Sniper almost chokes on the way there, but he’s pulled up to the surface just in time.

 

One thing is for sure, he’s not making it back out of here without the Spy’s help. There’s no way he’d be able to swim fast enough to get back to the main pipeline without drowning.

 

"What in the bloody hell do ya think yer doing?" he growls, spitting angrily. Whenever he was angry, his accent always got thicker and it was pretty clear just how pissed he was by the way his words were slurring up together. Kicking his legs at Spy's tentacles in an effort to be released, he wiggles his fingers, reaching for his Kukri in the grip of strong muscled appendages. Whatever was going on, couldn't be good.

 

“Your comeuppance, cher,” Spy smiles sweetly and strokes Sniper’s face lovingly. He grabs the man’s blade and flings it far into the water, where it sinks fast. “When I ate you… it was a mistake. Your actions, ‘owever, were not. You need to learn that you are _beneath_ me.”

 

He licks his lips, all of his shiny sharp teeth on display when he grins.

 

"OI! I LIKED THAT KNIFE!" Sniper yells, jerking his face away from Spy's touch. "Mistake my arse! If ya hadn't been intent on drowning me over and over, we wouldn't be in this bleedin' mess now would we?" he rumbles, kicking the Spy square in the stomach. He hoped it hurt. "I'd been fine with it once or twice like ya normally do, but you seemed intent on keeping me like that all day. I wasn't having that."

 

“Shh, be still,” Spy’s voice is almost sing-song as he binds the Sniper down more tightly with his tentacles. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat you again. Unlike you, I am not a savage. You are the one who so seemed to enjoy the taste of me, non? I will give you another taste.”

 

"I don't want another taste, ya creep. I wanna be let go so I can get back to me job." He’s livid now. The Sniper tries to kick him again, thrashing a bit when his legs and wrapped up in a tentacle as well. Fine mess he's gotten himself into really. He wishes he’d just hurry up and drown him already.

 

Spy backhands Sniper across the face with a gloved hand, startling him into silence. “You do not ‘ave a choice, my _friend_.”

 

He keeps him tightly bound with his free tentacles as he releases his ink in a puddle. He drenches one of his tentacles in the goo until it’s dripping, and raises it to Sniper’s mouth. The ink drips on Sniper’s face, and he wriggles even harder.

 

“If you bite down,” Spy warns in a silky voice. “I’ll only make you swallow it.”

 

His tentacle is stronger than Sniper’s jaw. He wriggles the tip inside, and with the slickness of the ink, slides it down his throat several inches in one go, almost a full foot.

 

The Sniper was struggling in an instant, trying his hardest to get free. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes, gagging around the large intrusion. He tries to relax, but he can’t. Sniper starts panicking when he starts getting a little light headed, unable to breathe properly with the tentacle halfway down his throat.

 

He thinks it can’t get any worse until Spy starts pulling back the tentacle. In an instant, he's retching; heaving up partially digested food and ink in a thick black ooze. It's hot and tastes more of ink than of bile, but is no less unpleasant. Just the thought of it makes him vomit again. And again. Until he is heaving dryly, drooling onto the floor beneath him and onto his shirt, staining the cloth with thick slime and his own saliva.

 

Spy laughs, a high-pitched, snorting laughter. He sounds like a donkey braying in his mirth, almost choking on his own laughter. He repeats the action, slithering the tentacle down Sniper’s throat, farther this time. Now that the acid is all gone, he slides the end of his tentacle right into Sniper’s stomach.

 

Inside of him is so warm and wet and smooth. He’s so _hot_ inside, Spy remembers how hot he felt inside _him_. He slithers his tentacle around, pushing out against Sniper’s belly and watching with glee as he can see it distend from the outside. He sits Sniper up to watch as his stomach ripples and rolls with his tentacle wriggling around inside.

 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Spy sneers, his pupils disappearing into slits. “You wanted to _eat me_ didn’t you? This is what you tried to do to me, I’ll give you all of me, mon cher.”

 

Sniper lets loose a muffled sort of whimper when he feels that tentacle wriggling around inside of him, a couple of tears falling down his cheeks when Spy pushes his belly out. A shiver runs up his spine. What could Spy possibly mean?

 

He can feel himself panicking a little bit. It’s impossible to breath and he can feel himself starting to fade out again. He wants so badly to bite down, but the thought of having to swallow down that whole appendage stopped him in his tracks.

 

Sniper’s jaw aches, and Spy only laughs harder when he hears it pop. “Oh, was that painful, bon bon?” he croons, leaning down to lick a droplet of ink from the corner of Sniper’s mouth. “Can you breathe? Non? Oh, I’m so sorry.”

 

This is how it should be. This is their natural state. He is a superior creature. It doesn’t matter how much he liked the Sniper, there’s a hierarchic scale to things and he won’t have this filthy bushman thinking that he has the upper hand.

 

He slithers that tentacle in farther, going a little faster now. Sniper’s stomach rushes outward to make room so quickly that the buttons of his shirt fly off. Spy delights in the Aussie’s moans of pain.

 

“Did you know that octopi can detach their limbs at will?” Spy says, his voice low and sultry. “I found it out by chance. Let’s see what it’s like, shall we?”

 

At the base, his tentacle springs off. It’s still wiggling like mad, writhing with leftover charged nerve endings. More of the tentacle is in Sniper’s body than out of it by now. The only way Sniper can hope to breathe again is to swallow like his life depends on it, aided by the tentacle’s constant downward wiggling.

 

Sniper tries to cry out in surprise and panic, attempting to heave up the appendage for a moment before realizing that that just wont work; its too far inside his guts to be spewed out. He tries swallowing back, but it’s so painful. The tears ran down his face full force now with there being nothing he could do to stop them. As he felt his lungs contracting painfully, he swallowed a little faster, desperately needing to breathe.

 

It took all his determination and will power, but the second he could breathe without the tentacle obstructing his throat he gasped and coughed, choking as his body tried in vain to heave up the tentacle writhing inside of him. The only thing that came up was more hot bile and ink.

 

Spy gives another shout of glee. Nevermind the fact that now he has only five and a half tentacles. He’ll make due until they grow back, it only takes a couple weeks. It’s worth it to see Sniper so miserable and terrified.

  
He’s never seen such a distended belly on a human. He watches it writhe, wiggle around inside its prison, and he wonders briefly if the man will rupture. It’s such a beautiful sight to behold, human as he belongs. Confused and scared, covered in snot and tears and vomit.

 

“There, see?” Spy whispers, caressing Sniper’s face, down the side of his neck, and presses down on his belly with both hands. “I can be understanding. You wanted to feast on me, and feast you ‘ave.”

 

Sniper whimpers softly at the wriggling inside of him. His toes curl inside his boots and he shifts uncomfortably. He’s still drooling despite his best efforts to swallow his saliva.

 

He’s barely able to make heads or tails of anything, eyes flickering around aimlessly for a moment in his dazed state before falling onto Spy's face, leveling there. His own expression changes swiftly to a glare and he growls weakly. His body tries to heave again, to no avail. "You're dead. As soon as I get loose, you're a dead man."

 

“No, you see, this is a lesson,” the spy hums, raking his claws down Sniper’s stomach. His skin is stretched so tight, he could split him open with the lightest of pressure. “To show you what I am capable of. If you try to get back at me again, I will only even the score, _‘arder_. I am stronger than you, I am faster than you, I am your superior, and you will either obey me and fear me, or you will suffer just like this.”

 

Sniper spits off to the side to clear away a little more drool. His body is slowly adjusting to having something so large inside his guts, but the constant wriggling makes it painful and his stomach keeps cramping intensely. He's surprised that he hasn’t burst open yet.

 

"Just let me-" Sniper stills with a shiver that flits up his spine. He feels the tentacle wriggling lower, trying to find more room. He whimpers as he feels the end of it slowly snaking down into his intestines.

 

Spy licks his lips, writhing with pleasure. The sight of Sniper like this, so full he might die from it, his stomach rippling and so _huge_ , it almost has him inking again involuntarily.

 

He watches as Sniper’s belly changes shape, rounding out more as the appendage slithers around to fill as much space as possible. He can see the tip of it through the skin of Sniper’s lower belly, and he presses down on the bump to shoot sparks through the bushman’s body.

 

Sniper cries out at the added pressure, body both trying to arch away and into the touch which ends up becoming a little wiggle. He feels so confused. He feels overloaded and overwhelmed; everything is this intense heat and there are shooting pains in his stomach when the tentacle moves wrong, but at the same time he's hot and when it moves right it sends these little jolts of pleasure up his spine.

 

He's panting as the nausea slowly subsides and his body adjusts to the wriggling in his belly. The tentacle twitches when Spy presses against it and it works itself even lower. Sniper stills a bit as it goes, groaning and toes curling inside his boots.

 

“Are you _enjoying_ this?” Spy goads, clutching Sniper’s belly and shaking it slightly from side to side. Sniper is limp from overstimulation and rocks with the Spy’s touch. He watches the addled human turn red in the face.

 

His belt groans miserably around the bottom of his belly as the tentacle ventures even lower, pressing out hard against the line of his pants. Spy grins and makes the smallest tear in the leather so that the writhing appendage can break it on its journey down through Sniper’s guts.

 

"Oi!" he groans out in a huff. "Don't ruin any more of my clothes, ya bleedin' arse." He doesn't say that he's not enjoying it, but other than that says nothing else. His cheeks flush a deep red when he hears the belt creak and then suddenly give, snapping open, giving the tentacle more space to roam. He wants to cover his face, cover his shame, but his arms are still held tight to the side of his body.

 

He gives a miserable little wiggle to try and free them. He's given up trying to escape, he doubts that he'll be able to move even if he does, but he just wants a little wiggle room before he starts feeling really claustrophobic.

 

Spy laughs when the button of Sniper’s pants burst open as the tentacle inside him turns over and gives a mighty shove downward. He pulls the zipper down and shimmies the man’s pants down to his knees and lets out a shuddering breath of awe.

 

From his ribcage to his pelvis, Sniper’s entire torso is bloated and writhing. Spy’s stomach feels tight and hot, his tentacles all seizing up and then rippling in pleasure. “You look good when you are full of me, cher,” the Spy grins and leans over Sniper. He presses his own flat stomach against the wriggling mass inside the bushman as he slides down to kiss and suck at his throat.

 

Sniper groans lowly at the heat rising in his body, radiating out from all over to prickle his skin. Eventually, it starts snaking its way down his spine and wriggles a bit again once it makes its way between his thighs. He can no longer deny that he feels incredible so full up. With a good portion of the tentacle moving through his intestines, his stomach doesn't feel quite as painfully stretched, so the wriggling there isn't as painful and eventually starts feeling pretty nice actually.

 

"No marks…" he warns. He knows that probably isn’t going to happen, it never did, but he gives the warning nonetheless. He's ended up with sucker marks all over his body before and it was a real doozy to try and hide them.

 

Spy completely ignores him. He latches onto Sniper’s neck and starts to suck, and slips a tentacle up the leg of the bushman’s boxers to wrap around his package. He’s breathing hard, groaning at the feeling of his own tentacle slithering and pressing against him through the skin of Sniper’s belly.

 

“Lower,” he hisses, encouraging the appendage to slide deeper. He strokes the length of it at the very bottom of Sniper’s belly, trying to spur it into motion even deeper into the Aussie’s system.

 

The Sniper is trying to kick his boots off when the tentacle in his guts wriggles against that gland inside him that makes stars dance behind his eyes for a moment, arching into the touch more definitively that time. Okay… maybe he is enjoying himself a little bit here.

 

The tentacle writhes up against his prostate and he shouts louder. Alright, maybe a little more than a bit.

 

The combination of the sensations of the tentacle around his cock and the one slithering around inside him has him groaning low and deep, head tilting back a bit to more fully expose that long, sinewy neck, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows back the extra saliva he's started producing.

 

Spy’s teeth immediately attack that neck, leaving behind red marks and purple marks and puncturing the skin in a couple places that will leave scabs and itch for hours. His long tongue traces patterns on his neck and shoulder, and when Sniper jolts and yells again, it gets his attention.

 

Sniper makes a very specific kind of noise when his prostate is struck. It’s both high pitched and low, both loud and breathy, desperate and miserable. It’s a noise that the Spy has come to associate with the bushman in absolute pleasure. But he’s not currently inside Sniper – until it occurs to him that he _is_.

 

He grins. His tentacle must have wriggled so low, that it’s started to put pressure on the Aussie’s prostate. Licking his lips, he drenches a second tentacle in ink and presses it against the bushman’s entrance. The man is in such throes of bliss, that Spy needs only wait for his clenched muscles to relax and he slips it right inside with ease.

 

His hands clench at his sides and his toes curl once again inside his boots. Oh god. He's drowning in all of the sensations right now; from the pleasant cramping in his stomach to the tentacles both inside him and moving carefully along the length of his manhood. He can't even bring himself to care about the marks that are left on his neck even though he's going to have one hell of a time covering them up.

 

His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides, trying to get some sort of purchase, desperately needing something to hold on to as he felt the slide of another tentacle inside him. He isn’t sure how much more of this he could take. Jolts of pleasure radiated across his skin like little lightning bolts and he was no longer in control of how loud his moans were.

 

Spy’s tentacle slides deeper between Sniper’s legs, stretching and widening him gradually. He takes his time, grinding it and twisting it, filling him completely and then retreating, only to stuff him wide with it again. He doesn’t even need to aim for Sniper’s prostate because his other tentacle is doing the job for him, so he can focus solely on just how deep and how hard he can fuck the overwrought man.

 

But then it occurs to him that he could swiftly take the Sniper apart completely. Rather than remove his tentacle, he doubles it back over, filling Sniper twicefold, until it finds the point that the second appendage has been writhing against. With deft movements, he applies pressure from the opposite side, effectively sandwiching his prostate between two constant points of motion and pressure.

 

The bushman _screams_.

 

Sniper is writhing. His lower stomach distended just that little bit more when he was filled up completely. He didn't think that there was any way he could possibly be filled any more. His moans come out as choked gasps and he feels another kind of pressure building in the pit of his stomach.

 

"Fuck, mate," he groans, barely able to form words his brain is so muddled up. He's drooling and rocking his hips the best that he can in his current state. Finally, he manages to free one arm and grips desperately at Spy's shoulder, long, thin fingers bunching the fabric under them. His breaths are coming short and shallow as he starts seeing stars.

 

Spy is panting now, too. Longer, slower, but he’s starting to feel dizzy. He release Sniper’s limbs completely when he realizes the man isn’t trying to get away, and simply uses his remaining tentacles to support the crying man.

 

Suspending him easily despite the extra weight inside him, Spy swirls his tentacles over every inch of his body. He leaves sucker prints across his belly and chest, sopping him with ink, shaking with pleasure.

 

Spy has all but forgotten why he originally brought Sniper down here. He wanted to teach him a lesson, but it seems that when it comes to them, everything always devolves into frantic, fast-paced fucking.

 

"Oh thank god," he sighs in relief, finally being able to stretch his legs out properly, placing either foot at Spy's hips, after kicking off his pants and boots, to help give him a bit more leverage. His other hand joins the first on Spy's shoulders, suddenly pulling him in for a deep kiss that he quickly turns filthy, sliding his tongue in and right past those shark like teeth to tangle with his companion's.

 

That pressure that he feels in his hips gets stronger faster than he's ever felt before and he's not sure how to process this until it's all suddenly too much. He lets loose a choked scream, feeling like he's been hit by a bus his orgasm is so strong. Everything is bright and hot and intense enough to make him throw his head back as he sobbed. Then everything goes dark and it takes him a few moments to come to, looking around dazedly, feeling tingles all over his body.

 

Curteously, Spy slips his tentacle from Sniper’s body. But the one inside his belly hasn’t let up. It’s slowed down considerably, but it continues to writhe just enough to continue putting pressure on the poor overstimulated bushman’s prostate.

 

Sniper is a shaking, moaning and drooling mess at this point. He can’t think straight and cant talk past a few garbled mumbles. The continued brushing to his prostate has him arching again, unable to do anything to get more or less pressure. He goes completely limp in the grip of all those tentacles as he attempts to catch his breath.

 

“Shh, shh, mon cher,” Spy coos, cradling the Sniper closer to him. He cups his belly and tries to discourage the tentacle’s continued movements, but until the nerves wear out he’s stuck with it. “Listen to me, give me your attention for a moment. Tell me, bushman. Are we even? Can we end this feud?”

 

The tentacle slows enough for the Aussie to finally relax, panting heavily and limbs falling to his sides. He's completely exhaustsd. "Yeah..." he croaks, sounding a bit like he's gargling molasses his voice is so low and thick from his previous screaming. "Yeah... I'm done fightin' with ya..."

 

“Oh, good,” the Spy smiles and rubs his hand in a slow, steady circle across the Sniper’s gorged belly. “I much prefer when we love instead of fight.”

 

He settles down, creating a nest out of his remaining tentacles for the worn out Sniper to get comfortable in. He embraces him on all sides with warm, slippery flesh, crooking one beneath his head and behind his knees.

 

This was better than he could have hoped for. He wanted, by the end of this, to have the Sniper fear him at the very least. His only goal was to put himself higher than the man again, to remind him who is in charge. He didn’t expect this.

 

He’s got his friend back.


End file.
